


chip at the bricks and fill up your pockets

by Rupzydaisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU - Thor Laufeyson, Loki deals with responsibility and would rather a statue, jotun!thor, siblings who ride or die, the family that fights together -sticks together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rupzydaisy/pseuds/Rupzydaisy
Summary: In which Loki schemes and plots and realises that the throne to Asgard is not all it seems and eventually accepts that it needs a king who is worthy, Frost Giant blue brother or not.Or...In which the little brother gets his hands on what the bigger brother has and then realises, “Uh, actually, I don't want it. You have it back.”





	chip at the bricks and fill up your pockets

Part One 

As brothers they are like two sides of the same coin; one younger and one older. One with strength and the other with far more useful intellect. There's years and years behind them and there so many more to go; yet, Loki had known from the beginning that his older brother was not as he seemed. He had never learnt anything on the matter from Thor, suffice to say that the thought had never crossed the elder brother’s mind, and neither had Odin or Frigga treated them differently enough for him to figure it out on his own. But it was unmistakable. He could feel magic on his oblivious older brother. It thrummed off Thor's skin and was barely noticeable, like quiet footsteps approaching at the end of the corridor. But Loki never brought himself to question it aloud and the puzzle remained as they grow older; it simply became more easier to ignore now that he was used to it. It faded into the background, beyond more pressing thoughts of duty, royal responsibility, and learning the art of magic.

All of Asgard knew that Odin's oldest son was adopted, yet the blond hair and his own build struck a familial similarity which kept at bay any potentially impolite questions. He was known to all as Thor Odinson, elder brother to Loki Odinson. Nevertheless he was somewhat a perpetual outsider when placed alongside the other members of the ruling family. His brash personality rubbed against the courtly decorum that was expected within Asgard's halls. It chipped against the stilted coughs and elicited raised eyebrows. His father’s stalwart presence and his mother's powerful elegance were at contrasts with their eldest son. Loki too, was a quieter creature far more suited to the shadows between the gilded marble columns than performing under the full force of Asgard's attention. Despite it, somehow Thor enjoyed it. He courted their with his loud shouts and booming voice and the rest of Asgard applauded and cheered politely for the young prince, not yet the Crown Prince, but who would someday be the one they turned to rule them.  

If he had to pin the root of his brother's popularity down, Loki would say that Thor's saving grace was the solid and rather painful fact that he could take down anyone he happened to spar with. A jab to the face or even a well aimed swing to the chest would have his opponent on the floor. Even when they were young it was clear to see that in time Thor would be one of Asgard's greatest warriors. His size had him looming over their peers and once he was old enough to enter the training fields, he was clearly larger than the more lithe warriors of his own age. His bulk worked to his advantage and he was a sure winner against those he'd been pitted against. Loki, on the other hand, preferred to stay out of the way of the clashing steel and simply watching Thor and their friends from a safe distance with a book from the library between his hands.

But when he was eventually roped into their tournament practises, Loki fully took advantage of his time observing them from the sidelines, which as ever in their young and youthful days was far more often than he’d have liked.

“Come on, you lame and limping bilgesnipe!” Thor shouted from the centre of the field with worn out grass under his feet.

Loki dropped his book with a long huff of annoyance, ignoring the elbowing and half-whispered jests swapped between the small group on the other side of the field as he dragged himself to his feet. Under a hot summer sun he shrugged on leather armour and accepted the sword Hogan held out for him.

He cast his eyes back to his book on the roots of Yggdrasil and how far they reach. It was one of his more interesting reads of the week and was a sorry distraction. From the sideline, his brother stood with a puffed up chest looking very pleased with himself.

“Tell me again why you need me to participate in this?” Loki called back, careful to keep out any whining tones from his voice.

“You make up the numbers.” Sif replied from her spot beside Thor. A hand wave from her had him reluctantly stepping into the marked out ring to face his first opponent while she took his seat on the bench.

“How kind of you to think of me.” Loki said over his shoulder.

Somewhere behind him he can hear his brother laughing but he puts it out of his mind, easily distracted by the weight of the leather armour on his chest and the sword in his hand. He had grown up practising with his daggers and his magic under his mother’s tutelage while Thor had taken to his swords, axes, and had been bestowed his beloved hammer.

The first fight begins explosively and Fandral is a quick opponent but that is easy enough to counteract. Loki slips backwards and allows the man's own momentum to tip his balance. He seizes his chance seconds later and his staff sweeps neatly under his opponent's feet, sending Fandral to the floor with a dusty thud.  

“Was that the warm up?” Loki peered over Fandral slumped on the ground and was only answered by a muffled groan; a satisfactory result seeing as how his book lay abandoned.  

Hogan stepped up next with his mace in hand. It is a better suited match; their fighting styles are more similar and they stand poised in the centre of the ring, waiting for the other to betray the next movement. So Loki took the lead and slid to the left and Hogan executed his opening move by swinging his mace in big loops. As his feet move forwards, Loki lunged closer and ducked under the mace’s arc. He feels the whistle of the air while dropping to his knees, spinning his staff diagonally to first strike Hogan's left knee and then his mace hand. The weapon lands on the grass and the warrior follows, tipping backwards with no grace.

But Hogan managed to catch his balance and spins around on his right knee to get upright once more. Loki scrambled backwards now realising he was at a disadvantage. He lurched upright and then instead of waiting for Hogan to make the next move, he beats him to it. Spinning the staff over his shoulders and bracing it against his spine, he slams the end against Hogan's head. It stuns him long enough for another fast volley of hits and the second of the Warriors Three ends up sprawled on his back, hands on his bruised chest and wincing hard.

Loki grins yet again, but doesn't have enough time to dust himself off as Volstagg hops up from his spot on the bench and without a moment's hesitation slams the bulk of his broad chest into him. Loki lands on his back with the air knocked out of his lungs entirely. He wheezes hard, once, twice and struggles to feel his head or feet. The ground is hard under him and the sun shines bright in his eyes, throwing silvery circles across his vision.

“I had my back turned!” Loki spits out once he's able to breathe again. He gets to his feet and makes a show of dusting himself off. When he throws a pointed look at his brother, who only smirks back, he has to take another deep breath to compose himself. “Not very sporting, Volstagg.”

“I got bored waiting.” Volstagg drew his sword and they begin.

It is a quicker bout than the previous one and sparks fly as his steel lines inlaid in his staff and Volstagg’s sword clash with each parry. But he knows that Volstagg is weaker on his left side at blocking, so Loki makes a few half hearted jabs, testing his reactions. Then he made his move, twisting away on light feet and using the length of the staff to slam into Volstagg’s side; he fell like a tree, heavy and with a loud thud.

Loki stepped back and gave his staff a final twirl before letting it clink against the dusty ground, “I don't see why you drag me into these things. It’s not like it’s a jaunt to a battlefield. Look, I think I've proved myself enough, and I have better things today than all this.”

“Tournament’s not over.” Volstagg grumbled as he sat down on a bench at the ringside.

Sif was next, and as always is a notoriously difficult opponent. Both quick and balanced, she was truly relentless whenever facing him. He still believes it's revenge for cutting her hair when they were children. The original blonde was left in long locks on damp green grass in the palace gardens and the black hair that grew in its place, in his opinion, suits her much better. Whatever the motive, he suffered greatly. Her sword nicks his shins and left arm before he concedes defeat, happily resigned to losing the match to her.

Thor is his final opponent of their mock tournament far out on the training field, and the long afternoon has taken its toll on both of them. Thor sported a bruised face having taken a mace to his jaw when battling with Hogan, as well as a few bruised ribs from a body tackle from Volstagg. Even though he was the younger of the two of them, Loki suddenly decides to take the opportunity to teach Thor something he thinks his older brother has never really come across before. Not on this practise field with Sif and the Warriors Three nor on a battlefield where all he can count are wins and the occasional beating by his friends.   

Loki shifts his grip on his sword and thinks of the best way to impart this knowledge; that there is more to a battle than muscle. As he thinks, he sets about edging around the ring marked out, slowly circling Thor. He would be slow now, knowing how his brother would always make the first move. His speciality was lurching into battle.

“A little tired are we? You can always concede now, brother. You don't have to go through a kicking just to prove you are the third best warrior out of our little group.” He pauses and turns to their small audience, “Lady Sif, you are obviously the first.”

Thor only laughed in reply, waiting for Loki to lunge at him, or perhaps jab at his chest with the staff he continued to twirl in looping arcs.  

“No?” Loki paused, his boots sinking into the layer of dust they'd kicked up over the past few matches.

Opposite him Thor came to a dead stop, hunched down so that he had a lowered centre of gravity. He had effectively situated himself as a boulder in the centre of the ring. Loki saw that he tightened his grip on Mjolnir.

“Brother, I am said to soon be one of Asgard's finest warriors-”

“Fine, have it your way.” Loki straightened up and jabbed the staff, not at his brother, but into the ground. Buried in the grass, the staff was left swaying when Loki twisted on the spot and disappeared from sight.

Thor froze, unsure what to do now that his opponent had shimmered out of existence, but the rest of their group watching from the benches howled and shouted in overlapping voices calling out taunts.

“Brother, you're cheating.” Thor growled under his breath, turning his head around to spot something.  

Loki's let his disembodied voice call out jovially, “Am I?”

“Yes, you are.” Thor looked around, trying to detect a ripple in the air, but there was nothing except himself in the ring.

“I thought Asgard's finest champion could vanquish anyone. Do the halls still ring with the tales of your fighting, or have they moved on to more interesting follies.” Loki appeared in a flash of light, walking the edge of the ring with one foot placed in front of the other with great care. This was merely the beginning. He waved a hand dismissively, “I'm sure you'll, you know, do your best.”

His brother turned and laughed, “If you can't strike up the courage to face me, then you can always forfeit, Loki.”

Loki huffed to himself and disappeared again, only to reappear at the other edge of the ring and fling two knives. “Never.”

Thor batted them out of the way with his hammer, and then lunged across the space between them.

There, it was what he was waiting for and Loki grins and this time rushes forward, staff in hand and twisting it back and forth. When it hits against Thor's hammer, the resulting clanging noise is deafening and he can feel it reverberate up his arms.

Up close their swings are shorter and there is a scrabble of footsteps in the ring. Thor puts his weight behind each swing, and when it clips Loki's staff, it sends him backwards and he struggles to stay upright. Unwilling to end on his back again, he flashes gold and suddenly there are multiple copies of him encircling his brother in a ring. Each raise their staffs up in the air and point it towards Thor in the centre.

“Loki…”

Thor calls out his warning, turning in a slow circle and inspecting each figure for flaws but his magic holds true without a flicker. The copies smirk back at him in sync, tipping their heads forwards and Thor is stuck between them.

Their mouths open, and a drawled, collective “Yes?” is Loki's only response.

Thor shakes himself into action by dropping Mjolnir to his side and begins to spin it, round and round until flickers of lightning emit from the burnished metal. Loki's eyes widen, all twenty of them, as Thor swings his hammer into every single copy in the circle. Loki ducks just as the hammer reaches him and he can feel the air slice past his face. Thor continued turning with his own momentum, having expected to hit his brother at some point, and Loki uses the miscalculation to his advantage by levelling his staff horizontally and pushing forwards. The metal shaft collides with Thor's back and he's propelled further, feet slipping on the sun baked ground.

Pressing on, Loki dropped the staff and unsheathed his knives once more. He stepped to side and jabbed the first into Thor's ribs, the second he waggled in front of his brother's surprised face. He vanished only to reappear opposite their small audience, all sporting looks of slight disgust and disapproval. They should have known better. He raised his hand with the second throwing knife and launched it across the ring.

It catches Thor in the leg and he stumbles. His knees hit the floor, and Loki flashed over in an instant to give one final shove so his back hit the grass.

“I win.” Loki leant down to declare it and his smile is as smug as he feels. _Lesson complete_ , he thinks to himself.

Thor groused for a long moment before pulling out the knives sticking into his ribs and leg and taking his brother's outstretched hand with a wry smile, “Next time, you won't be so lucky.”  

 _Next time, you might think better when choosing your opponents,_ thought Loki, only he would come to realise that Thor needed more than one example for a lesson to sink into his young, dumb, head. 

 

Part Two 

Loki understands something very quickly, when they find themselves on the frozen wastes of Jotunheim. His sudden realisation was accompanied by a gut-plummeting feeling when he realised that Thor was itching for a war just as Laufey, King of the Jotuns, said. The frosty king sat high on his dilapidated throne and barely tipped his head to look down on them with unnerving amber eyes, and Loki found himself silently agreeing that _yes_ it was a reckless course of action, and only self serving for certain blond haired, almost-Crown Prince. It was not fit behaviour for one who was meant to be acknowledged as the Crown Prince of Asgard. Not for Odin's first born who would be lauded by crowds with all their clapping and cheering and adulation, and especially not after Thor had sworn to the Allfather to maintain the peace and protect the realms. Loki watched with his lips pressed thin because they'd come this far, with their boots sinking into powdery snow, and there was not much he could do about the course of events now.

Yet he was glad that before they had left Asgard, he had made enough noise and delayed them long enough for Heimdall to see what Thor was doing. This wasn't like a sparring session in the training grounds or a quick jaunt to battle a beast on another planet and rescue a village or a city. No, if Thor had to face the consequences for his rash actions at the foot of the throne, he'd happily play the role of sympathetic brother.

Unfortunately it hadn't worked. They were already here and not being yanked back to Asgard through the Bifrost.

When he stared up into Laufey’s eyes and saw the amber gaze burning back, he is all too glad that he knows the Allfather is coming.

They had been so close to leaving. Perhaps they would have before Laufey’s words struck out whatever resemblance of sense was left in Thor's brain. It irked Loki even more to know that the Jotun King had saw so clearly that Thor wanted a war. It wasn't meant to be like this.

The fight began with an insult, and of course, Thor countered with a swing of his hammer. Loki cast his eyes around the snow covered throne room with its ceiling wide open to the grey tinged sky, not by design but by neglect. Around them the other Jotuns reach for their weapons and stalk forwards. In front of him Sif draws her sword from her sheath and picks out her first target.  

He follows suit and snaps out his knives with one long eye roll exchanged with Hogan's grunt. He makes a silent promise to himself that once this had blown over he would use his magic to lengthen Thor's hair and replace his clothes with the finest dresses. _Yes, that would be something to look forward to._

But Thor throwing the first punch isn't something that would surprise him, Sif and the Warriors Three, or the entire Jotun court. All of them could see the goading for what it was. No, it was what happened as a result of it that surprised Loki, and what it goes on to become. Because it was not until they reach Jotunheim that Thor's skin first turns blue and icy under the touch of another Frost Giant, where like met like. It was a strange twist of fate to think that if they had not come, then there would be nothing to know. When the glamour snapped, the magic of it sent a ripple through the air. Loki felt the residual magic buzzing on his skin despite the icy snow scratching his exposed cheeks and hands. He realises later that the only reason he felt it is because it was _recognisable_ , it was magic he had felt his whole life.

He saw the shock on his brother's face as the Jotun laid hands on Thor and turned towards him, silently cursing Heimdall for being too slow in opening the Bifrost. He threw his knives into the back of the Jotun and when the monster fell, his brother was revealed. Thor had not fallen in battle but something had broken within; he held up a blue hand in front of his face with wild eyes and an expression that bleeds the horror he couldn't disguise.

Loki's thoughts unspool messily like fine thread falling to the floor. He feels the air escape his lungs and the shock chills him more than the landscape of this icy realm.

His brother was a Jotun.

Mjolnir returned to Thor's outstretched hand and suddenly his brother had a renewed gust of strength. The powerful motion of the hammer slicing through the air sent a jolt through Thor and he became a storm of motion.He ploughed into his opponents one by one and knocked the Frost Giants down with great punishing blows. When he roared, it sounded like a desperate man but Loki couldn't give Thor his full attention, not now that they were outnumbered and unable to return to the safety of Asgard. Not now Laufey had awakened an ice monster from the depths of Jotunheim and Volstagg howled while clutching his arm injured by a Frost Giant's touch; the cold had burnt into the Asgardian’s skin, turning it black and dead.  

 

Part Three 

Odin arrived in a whirlwind of sharp magic and the Bifrost splits the frosty air with its colourful sheen and a blast of hot air. Peace is pulled back from the brink of war and the tattered remains of what little trust the Jotuns are gathered and rearranged as a threat. Then they are all pulled back away from the cold and the encroaching panic and Loki is glad to find his footing on the golden floor and less glad to look up and see Heimdall staring down at him. Nevertheless he breathes a little easier now that they were home and all still alive, if a little injured. A small concession.

When he turned around, he saw that Thor continued to argue instead of taking a moment's breath in relief. Was it not clear that there was no case to be made here, only an acknowledgement of foolishness.

“...the safety of Asgard!”

Thor shouted and Loki slumps where he stands because _yet_ _again_ , repeating the same old lines. Only this time he was facing down the Allfather. His voice was strained tight and his fingers still cling to Mjolnir in a white knuckled grip that hasn't relaxed since the very first blow was hit.

Loki found himself cringing behind his hand with the realisation that Thor had made a decision in that moment when the Jotun, his own kind, touched him and the magic concealing his true nature broke. And the one thing that had driven him to it was a permutation of the need to be accepted.

It is not a decision that a Crown Prince should have made.

For the sake of his people, peace was the highest and most noble aim any king could wish to achieve. The most fleeting of goals that encapsulated true safety and a flourishing of their people. Odin had spoken with them years ago, deep in Asgard’s vaults when they were both young children. He had sought to impress the duties of being a king on both of them and had told them that the day will come when one of them would have to defend that peace. To take on the responsibility that he had carried for eons and take Asgard to greater glories.

It had piqued Loki's curiosity, way back then after his father had recounted the tale of how the last Great War had ended. He knew there were epics written and ballads sung, he had read an entire shelf of books in the library on the war itself. But it was certainly something to hear from the words of the Allfather, it was the tale of how he had led the Asgardian army into battle himself with his Warhammer held high and succeeding in bringing peace to the Nine Realms.

A skinnier and smaller Loki had asked, “Do the Frost Giants still live?”

As usual, Thor was quick to interrupt with a bold statement, “When I'm king, I'll hunt the Frost Giants down and slay them all. Just as you did father.”

Loki had watched as his brother demonstrated just how he would with his wiry arms flailing wildly and blue eyes shining. What lingered of this childhood memory was Odin’s reply. His measured words would haunt Loki in the days to come. How he had looked at both his children in turn and told them, “A wise king never seeks out war, but he must always be ready for it.”

Now inside the empty golden dome, all Loki can think is that it's surprising, _no really_ , how some things change and others don't.

 

Part Four 

Odin spared a thought of the child he scooped out of the snow as he stripped Thor of his armour and powers.

How small the runt of the litter had been and how Laufey had abandoned him to the elements. How he had looked down and saw lightning crackling over the baby’s blue skin, circling the faint lines tracing his ancestry. If left alone he would succumb to the bitter ice. Odin hadn't lingered over his decision.

Now as his grandfather's armour flew off into the air and vanished into the vault, Odin thought of all that he has sacrificed and gained. Of the weight of the casket in his hand, of the eye he had given up to the Tree, and the war between the Jotuns and the Asgardians. He had seen too much death and suffering during this war that had dragged them to the very edges of the universe, so far from home. Frigga knew that he had seen a potential in Laufey’s discarded child beyond the advantage in securing peace. He had taken it with eager hands on that war torn icy realm and brought it back to an Asgard that had been equally broken. Now he can only think himself foolish for believing it could be like this.

His other son, his true firstborn, barely held his tongue. Loki stands and only his fingers twitch as Thor flies out into the Bifrost. But he doesn't stay quiet for long and the palace walls would soon echo with his shouts.

But for now they both watch in silence as Thor disappeared into exile and Mjolnir zipped into the ether.  

 

Part Five

Loki made his way down to the Vault and ignored the guards posted outside the doors. He passed every single collected artifact and his mouth twisted further and further downwards until he came to a halt in front of the object that had started this entire mess.

The Casket of Winter sat on the plinth at the very end of the long grey corridor inside the Vault. It pulsed blue light from its centre, and when he leaned down to take a closer look he could see its potent magic swirling around. It was smaller than he remembered. He reached a hand out and felt its cold power under his fingers, he could hold it with just one hand. There was a great power within, one he could only dream of. He could feel its strength setting the hairs on the back of his neck upright. Yet time ago Jotunheim had been Asgard's equal and the Casket had been the reason why. The lack of it had lead to Jotunheim withering into a desolate ruin and the Jotuns craved to use in their restoration. It truly was something two realms would go to war for, perhaps even all nine.

“Loki,” Odin spoke low and his voice carried along the corridor before his son had a chance to lay a hand on the blue cube.

“The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day,” Loki called out bitterly as he turned around to face the Allfather.

Loki wasted no time. He accused and argued for his brother at the foot of the vaults’ step with the Casket humming softly at his back. There were secrets the Allfather had kept over the course of their lives and Loki flung one questions after another and another, and found the answers lacking. The silence between then turned into a gulf and the skin around his father's remaining eye crinkled deeply and his mouth twisted.

The air grew thicker as Loki's shouts became louder and more shrill.

“Thor, your adopted son...” Loki yelled up the staircase, “Was meant for the throne as your eldest child! What does it mean now?”

“You've kept an entire vault full of relics and secrets from across the realms. Why didn't you tell him? Why? Tell me!”

“Why wasn't I told? How long were you going to keep it a secret, until there was a Frost Giant for a Crown Prince!”

“Is that all he was for? And your own son, to be discarded for a puppet strung across two realms, or else why didn’t you tell me? I could have kept a secret!”

He marched up the steps and the barrage of questions and accusations continued until Odin stumbled down. Loki watched dumbly as his father succumbed to the Odinsleep, having put it off for too long. When he dropped to his knees beside Odin and reached for his hand, any kind of apology died on his lips in the rush to call for help.  

It turns out that some secrets would never come to light.

 

Part Six

Frigga had seen that Loki understood best out of the two of them what it meant to be king. There were long winded games in their court that revolved around winning the King’s ear, or the Queen's favour as the prize. Asgardians had long lifespans and for many the jostling around the foot of the throne was the only way they could envisage spending it. She had watched for years as they courted Odin and she knew that one day, one of her sons would sit on the throne and find the court looking to him for answers.

Loki spent his youth trailing after finely robed members of the court in the high vaulted halls and golden corridors, watching the invisible forces push and pull on each other. A word here, a duel there, an agreement between two parties to block a third or fourth. He always came back to her study and sat beside her, asking _whys_ and _hows._

She indulged him and together they unravelled secrets. He took to hiding himself and eavesdropping, selecting a few young guards who were keen and clumsy. He evaded others who were infallibly loyal.

Over the years he learnt that these unwritten rules were all stacked together, interlocking in puzzling ways that have histories and links tying them to each other, some more complicated than the spells he had taught himself to weave when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Thor, on the other hand, has always been far more direct creature. It takes a certain kind of talent to place yourself fully in the moment, one which Loki never took much care for.

Now Loki remained on Asgard walking the palace’s quiet corridors while his brother was banished to Earth. Loki knew a little of it. It was a primitive realm, crawling with what he believes were insignificant humans and their fleeting lifespans. Stripped of his power, Thor was a mortal too. An equal.

For the first time in their lives, the two brothers were separated. It was clear to Frigga that it was a sobering thought that sat heavy in her younger son's gut, along with the weight of Asgard's throne wrapped around his ankles. It made his footsteps slower as he walked the golden corridors back to his own quarters. She also knew that Volstagg had spoken a little too loudly between his friends that Loki was skulking and in the same way, the palace guards whispered that he was sulking.

Loki has always been the solitary sort, but now for the first time, he was alone. It was a sobering thought for him.

 

Part Seven

Thor landed on Earth in the dead of night in a whirlwind of dust and the impact jars him to the bones even more than his last moments on Asgard. There's a wordless pain in his chest that erupts from his mouth as the wind lashes him. He staggered blindly. He had never thought his father could be so cruel as to banish him.

His father, Odin.

But he wasn't. It was clear to see it wasn't true. He had seen his own hands. Felt the chill beneath his skin.

It sends his thoughts spinning again. The dust continued to blow around and up into the air as the Bifrost closes and he can just about make out his hands in the dark. They were blue again, and marked with lines. His now-mortal body felt only pain and the loss in his chest is too much to bear. He ran his hands over each other and then over his face feeling the indentations and let out a roar of anguish.

Not this, he didn't want this.

His moment is cut short when his pain wracked figure was ploughed into by a van driven by an astrophysicist who saw proof of her life's work lying blue and cold on the brown desert dust under skies that had not yet slotted back into place.

 

Part Eight

Loki had dressed in his finest clothes first thing, only to ride out on his horse to the end of the rainbow bridge. He dismounted and left the horse tied up at the entrance, nickering softly to itself. As he walked into the golden dome, he saw Heimdall standing at his post with stars in his eyes, gazing deep into the universe. Stepping closer and slowly circling the inside of dome, Loki took a moment to clear his throat and then began to issue his demands, knowing he’d be heard.

He rattled them off, one by one, each was more banal than the prior. Then he added his final one, “Heimdall, you will report back to me of anything consequential.”

The gatekeeper turned only to level a stare and nodded curtly. Message understood.

Loki paused halfway around before the opening of the Bifrost and brushed off his sleeves, wondering if his own curiosity would get the better of him. He glanced over when he thought Heimdall’s attention had returned to the wider universe. Despite his own position as Thronekeeper, the Gatekeeper still struck an imposing figure and Loki tried to shake of the feeling that he was being judged. Heimdall saw all, and it also meant that Heimdall may have seen his plans. He disliked the idea of someone watching what he was doing.

But he had made the journey there, so it wasn't long until he gave in to his own curiosity and asked, “What... do you see of Thor now?”

“Thor is in the company of humans. Friends.”

The rumble in Heimdall’s voice was low, and his short words were only slightly reassuring. It sounded like Thor had managed to survive his first night on Midgard, his first night powerless.

This time it was Loki who nodded tersely. He adjusted his cloak and considered the new information. He stared out beyond the walls of the dome at the glittering expanse and his thoughts turned to a planet of humans who were dangerously curious creatures. It was not too long ago that he and Thor, and other Asgardians frequented Earth and battled with beasts who had crossed over Yggdrasil’s branches with malevolent intentions. In those days, humans were a gullible lot and believed Asgardians, or even those beasts or Jotuns who they came across, to be gods.

Loki suppressed a snort, they weren't far off.

And Thor had made... _friends_ with them?

“And Mjolnir?”

Loki was unable to stop the tightness in his voice so he continued to pace his way around the inside of the golden room for the sake of a distraction.  

Heimdall smiled with flickers of stars in his eyes, “Has landed on Earth as well. Many humans seek to lift it. None have succeeded.”

That last comment has Loki bristling again, _all-seeing indeed._ Having circled all the way around the dome, he came to a dead stop at its entrance. Behind him, the rainbow bridge shimmered in the dawn’s halflight from the reflection of the waterfall over the edge of Asgard. He had learnt only a little more than what he had already known, but it would have to do for now. He could use his own magic to gather any extra tidbits if he required more.

As he left, he gave his final instructions. “Do not allow anyone else passage unless I have permitted it. You do your duty Gatekeeper, and watch over Thor...He is still of Asgard despite his exile.”

Heimdall turned and stepped off the platform to look at Loki, this time without stars in his deep brown eyes. Loki refused to squirm now that the Gatekeeper’s full attention was on him but he couldn’t keep his fingers from plucking at his sleeves under the steely dark gaze. _Like brother, like sister, they both have daggered looks._

“Unless you have permitted it, your Highness, I  understand.” Heimdall repeated levelly, and with a guarded smile he turned back to take up his post to watch over the nine realms.

With a barely suppressed huff, the acting King of Asgard turned away and stalked out to his horse. The journey back to the palace was not as quick as he had hoped, and Loki pulled the hood of his cloak further down over his eyes as he rode through the stone gates. To his annoyance, he ended up having to dismount a few streets in as Asgard began to go about its day's business and people, his people, filled the streets. He could hear mutterings about Thor’s banishment, and how his younger brother had been primed for the throne. It's fickle gossip; over loaves of bread they ruminate about the nature of his exile, of what truly happened on Jotunheim, of deceit and betrayal and there being a traitor in the house of Odin. On any other day he'd drape over the disguise of an elderly merchant woman and spin out tantalising speculations, but not today.

He heaved a heavy sigh and ducked under an overhead bridge, pulling his cloak tighter around him and sticking close to his horse. The narrow alleyway underneath lead onto a side street that opened onto one of the larger markets squares. He tugged the horse closer to the wall so that a pair of bickering young girls pulling a cart full of fresh fruit had enough room to pass. The smell of fresh apples reminded him of his empty stomach and he reached out a hand to snag a red one. Pressed up against the bricks, Loki sucked in a breath at the sight of the four people following the trundelling fruit cart. They argued between themselves loud enough that Loki didn’t need to eavesdrop, he could hear every word. But he backed up closer to the wall and gripped the reins tight so that he was hidden by the bulk of his horse.

“...and we know that Loki has always had designs on the throne,” Hogan said it plainly, as though it was obvious and beside him Volstagg growled and stomped onwards quicker. “It just never seemed like he would get there, Thor was first in line.”

“He sits on the throne now though. There are no more designs to be done!” Fandral's voice was strained and he threw his arms up into the air.

Even without seeing his face, Loki was sure that the warrior was frowning. Was it in disgust or just simple disapproval? He always had prefered Thor’s loud laughter and easy nature, compared to the skulking second child. Loki pressed up his face to his horse's neck. He was a legitimate leader of Asgard. In his brother’s absence, he'd taken up the responsibility. People were coming to him for help from sunup to sundown. They thanked him for his solutions and praised him for his quick thinking. They were grateful.

If Thor hadn't been stupid enough to pick a fight with the Jotuns, then things would be different. It would have been him sitting on the throne listening to basic gripes and petty arguments. But Thor had chosen differently and he was banished for it, and now Loki had risen to the throne.

_What would you have done, Fandral, if you had seen Thor's blue face, shrieked like a child?_

“Well, now that he does sit on the throne, perhaps we should petition him,” Hogan suggested somewhat sensibly, laying a heavy hand on Fandral's shoulder. “We ask him if he can end Thor’s banishment. It is within his power.”

 _As if it's that simple._ Loki scoffed to himself, and the sound was sharp and nothing like a horse's whuffling. He tipped his whole body forward so that he was hunched over with one hand clamped on his bent back. With his other he pulled the material of his cloak far over his face as The Warriors Three passed.

There was a round of agreeable noises from the lot of them and Hogan set about planning his speech, “We go to the palace and demand an audience…”

Hogan’s voice trailed off down the alleyway but Sif lingered behind to sweep her cloak back around her shoulders. Her narrowed eyes flitted around the shadows of the alleyway, and she spared more than once glance at the black horse standing underneath the bridge with a golden royal trim on its saddle whuffling loudly at an old, hunched over man for sugar lumps.

 

Part Nine

Frigga’s face was illuminated from the glow of magic encapsulating Odin as she leaned over his bedside. But soft reflection of golden light does nothing to temper the look of concern on her face and Loki feels even more like a child when he eventually meets her eyes and asked her the question that had been unrelentlessly burning through his mind because he couldn’t keep it trapped within any longer.

“Why, Mother?”

Her worry about Odin disappears for a second as looks at her son and thinks of her other child so far from home. She smiled sadly and it surprises him when it reached her eyes. “We kept the secret to protect Thor. He has always been...as he grew older we came to know what he was like, and how he would react if he knew.”

“Yes, Thor is Thor.”

Loki replied flippantly and immediately regretted it. His mother’s eyes were watery with emotion but her smile turned softer. Loki couldn’t help but reach out a hand and squeeze hers before taking a seat. His eyes flicked away from her to Odin’s prone body beside them.

Frigga carried on, her tone more gentle than he would have expected. “Your father thought it was best for Asgard.”

“A Jotun son? A Jotun for a king?”

Loki just can't see it. He cannot understand it. Nothing about it made sense, not even all the hope in the universe could bridge the gaping chasm between their two realms. They had half destroyed themselves and each other fighting in what had been considered an unending war.

“...And you agreed?”

“Odin believed that the best thing for our two realms would be for Thor to be king. We would raise him as our own, he would be a child of Asgard.”

She spoke quietly, but she had the weight of carrying and maintaining the secret for years. Her easy assurance made him feel uncertain about the anger burning in his chest. He had never liked being chided, and hated not knowing even more. Thor as their first child, though not first born, had always been destined for the throne. He knew that. He had always known that.

_Did he have a problem with it? Not necessarily, after all he hadn’t thought it to be a problem._

Frigga leaned forward and asked him so sincerely he struggled to meet her eye. “Would you have taken a different path?”

He sighed and thought hard, and again he couldn’t come up with an answer. She reached over and placed her other hand on top of his.

“I thought it was best for us, you _are_ my sons. We kept the truth so that the both of you would not feel any different.”

“Mother, Thor cannot remain in exile.” He spoke quickly, because he had to know what she thought. “Things have changed now-”

Frigga smiled down at her sleeping husband. “Everything your father does, he does for a purpose.”

This time Loki smiled back but it was not as soft as his mother's. It was a weak mirroring and he thought he might never have that belief in his father again. Frigga let the silence hang between them until Loki broke it.

“Father called him a boy. A selfish, cruel and ignorant boy,” he repeated the words mechanically. “What do you say to that, Mother?”

“Odin has known what war with the Jotuns can do. Thor threatened the very peace he had promised to uphold. Even your father could not ignore that. The consequences alone would shatter the stability across the nine realms that we have preserved for centuries.”

She sighed and settled back in her chair before finishing with, “Loki, a king cannot act without disregard. The throne has rules, it has demands. Sometimes… it means that you must you must sacrifice the things you hold dear.”

Loki's thoughts sparked and frizzed. He excused himself, feigning a lighter tiredness than the one creeping under his skin. She allowed it even though she knew he was lying and gave his arm a final squeeze of comfort. He rose slowly and took a final look at his father deep in the Odinsleep, encased in the shimmering gold that protected him. His feet caught on the edge of the rug by the door and he paused to look back as he left.

When he did, he saw his mother leaning back in her chair with her head tipped forwards whispering words his father couldn’t hear. He saw the deeper worry she had kept hidden from him flitter back into her arm as she gripped Odin’s hand. He knew there were whispers under the arches outside the palace; they were echoed inside the feasting halls. All of them were saying that this time around the King may not wake from this Odinsleep. He didn't think that she believed them too.

But Loki understood that despite whatever his mother believed, he had to handle things himself.

 

Part Ten

His knees hit the ground first and then the rest of his body. Somewhere beyond his consciousness Darcy screeched loudly into the desert night that she tasered the weird guy because he was scaring the crap out of her. With his face in the dirt, he felt the icy blue pull back and slowly draw up under his skin. He drifted into the black, deaf to what happened next.

Under the dark night sky, Jane put her hands on her face in shock and took a moment to compose herself. Once she caught her breath back, she turned away and reached for her camera and her instruments to take new readings. Erik stepped around her and edged closer to the body lying on the ground. The stranger's skin looked more pink than blue, despite Darcy’s loud stream-of-consciousness, but it was not until the professor leaned down that he could clearly see a blond haired, bearded man.

“What kind of clothes are these?” He wondered as he reached out a hand to touch metal and leather. “Looks like... armour.”

“Wasn’t he blue?” Darcy called out confused from a good few feet back. She wound up the used taser wires and walked closer so that she could pull out the metal nodes trapped in the stranger’s clothing. “I swear he was blue.”

“Must have been a trick of the aurora light.” Erik said and stood up. He turned to Jane and she was engrossed, scribbling away in her notebook so he was not entirely sure she heard him the first time, “Jane, we’ll have to drop him off at the hospital. The hospital first, then the lab.”

Jane nodded absently between mutters and furious scribbling as she flipped pages full of notes.

They load him up, and Erik made a point of telling Darcy the next time she decided to taser someone so heavy, she should do it when they’re already in the van.

“Right, yeah I’ll do that.”

Darcy pursed her red lips as she sat down, toeing at the guy while Jane drove them back to town on double time, eager to get back to her lab and analyse her results. When they do realise that the man had been inside the storm, Jane’s drive to the hospital had Darcy clinging onto the handle above her seat with one hand and gripping onto the seatbelt with her other until her knuckles hurt.

The mission to find him was completed quicker than Darcy expected, albeit with another car mishap and Thor took his seat as a guest in the back of the van, squashed in beside her after a quick round of introductions.  

“So, are you one of the strong silent types? A ren-fair kind of guy, because you did look like you were wearing armour.” Darcy asked as Jane circled the parking spots near the diner.

Thor blinked at her before replying absentmindedly, “Yes, I am a warrior.”

“Cool...cool.” Darcy noded, frowning as he turned away.

His blue eyes flickered around the van, and then outside at the main street cutting through the middle of town. To him, Earth was different, everything was different. He could feel his own skin, warm to the touch but there was a coldness that threatened his heart, or perhaps it was in his soul. He clapped his hands together as Darcy cleared her throat.

His wandering gaze met Jane’s in the small rectangular mirror in front of her. He looked away quickly and dropped his voice to whisper conspiratorially to Darcy, “I do not believe that she is a warrior, but she is clever enough to knock me down. Twice. I have not been bested twice over for a long time.”

The confession made the young woman beside him scoff, but for Thor, the idea of it still smarted him more than the feel of hitting the ground. He was mortal now, and banished. Everything that had made him who he was had been taken away. His father had punished him for only trying to defend Asgard, and what good had it done? He was stuck on Earth with the Bifrost closed to him. His thoughts stuttered and then skipped over the word _exiled._

“... and Jane’s got doctorates in more things I count on my hands.” Darcy explained, wiggling her fingers, “All astrophysics related and far beyond my tiny poli-sci mind. Totally brains over brawn.”  

“Darcy’s our intern.” Selvig pitched in, craning his neck around to see Thor’s glazed look.

“For college credits.” She nodded, “It was either this or some kind of engineering thing, but I was sick of New York.”

Thor's thoughts drifted away from her chattering and turned to filling his stomach with food when they took their seats in the diner. But he was up on his feet the second he overheard that an object had landed on Earth that was far heavier for any single man to move. He knew he had to go. The ground he walked on was unfamiliar, and these new acquaintances were not his life-long friends; even his own skin betrayed him, turning Jotun blue and cold. Despite all that, he was a warrior of Asgard and his hammer would return to his hand once more. That he could be sure of. Mjolnir was his, and he needed it back.

Who else would he be if he were not Thor, God of Thunder with Mjolnir swinging in his hand?

There was a buzzing under his skin, and it would not quieten until he was whole again.

He and the humans parted ways, but Jane returned with more questions. When she did, he saw a glimpse of an opportunity and took it; planted his feet in the road just as she did and offered her an honest trade.

“You take me there, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

She was easily persuaded by the exchange and his heart felt a little lighter with the idea that he was not making the journey to Mjolnir across the desert alone.  

As they drove to the crater site, she talked about her work and how she was trying to pry the mysteries of the universe away from the stars and prove her theories. How she was naming and unravelling marvels. She talked of the Bifrost with another name and of paths in the infinite dark.

This time he listened carefully.

 

Part Eleven

Loki takes after his mother far more than his father would have liked to admit, and he knows it.

As the _true_ firstborn, the throne is his birthright. He knows it.

In all honesty, Loki truly believed he was better suited to ruling over Asgard benevolently and securely. Much better than Thor, whose hot headedness had now been proven in an spectacularly embarrassing way. Even their mother couldn’t deny that. And he won't deny it's what he had always wanted. The idea of Thor inheriting the throne so naturally and easily without fully rising to its lofty heights had irked him for years.

He was thrilled that it had fallen into his own hands. Now he had a chance to prove that he, with a better grip on Asgardian politics having studied them while Thor spent his days out on the practise fields swinging swords around, would help guide Asgard to greater things.

There was just one problem with the image of him sitting resplendent on the golden throne.

It didn’t fit him.

The throne was large and he had to rest his arms over the sides of it in an effort to take up more room and stop the seat from engulfing him. It was also uncomfortably hard. His back hurt from sitting up straight in an effort to be seen as kingly. When he stood up, his shoulders cracked as if he had gone three rounds in the practise ring with Sif.

From high up on the dais, he was able to look down on all the palace workers, the wellwishers, and the petitioners. All of them were looking to him for solutions to their problems, answers to their questions. They wanted help and kindness and empathy. After the third day facing a long queue of Asgardians with menial, petty problems he found himself having to plaster on a smile and an attentive look of interest.

But Loki had to admit that there was a niggling thought worrying away at him as he worked his way through issuing orders and final judgements from his lofty perch, sitting in his father’s place. Did being the God of Chaos and Mischief really sound like needed qualities for being Asgard’s king? He could do it, he could be their king. But was the role really for him?

His thinking was confirmed when he heard reports from his eyes around Asgard’s shadows who confirmed that the Jotuns were thinking of trying to steal back the Casket of Winter. The trial run of that failed attempt to steal it back only served to show the remaining underlying friction between their worlds. Now, with Asgard weakened, without the Allfather watching over and locked within the Odinsleep, Loki saw that things were not quite how he imagined them to be from the lofty heights looking over the throne room. It was hardly lavish parades and table-straining feasts held in his name each night, with crowds cheering his name as he rode through the main streets to meet his people. No, their attentions were distracted, and so were his.

He suddenly found himself thinking there was more to having a hand on the throne, rather than sitting on it.

He goes to Earth, like a comet returning to its orbit, and comes across the pathetic scene of Thor defeated by his mortality. His brother sat miserable, cuffed to a chair and these were restraints that would hold him until he was released by a human. It was a sobering thought, that this was what Thor looked like without Mjolnir, no power and lacking his immortality.

So, naturally Loki lied and lied and lied.

He told his brother that their father is dead and it was not a stretch to take it further, to goad him. He found it surprisingly easy and put it down to a lifetime of practise. His brother shouted back, pulling at where his arms were tied down like a thrashing animal...but he didn’t argue.

Undeterred, Loki continued talking, explaining the situation in Asgard and watching Thor's reaction carefully, “...the burden of the throne has fallen to me now.”

He was not lying. Not entirely. The weight was heavy on his shoulders now that he could feel the wards surrounding Asgard. He could feel how they rippled and he held the knowledge of the many, many lives contained within that needed protecting. It felt more like a stone around his ankles than a noble duty to undertake but he would bear it for as long as he had to.

After all, Asgard needed a king who was worthy.

“Can I return?”

Thor looked like a lost child, eyes begging to come home with the pain of his father's death striking deep and Loki fought to hold his expression in place, afraid he might burst into laughter. He stuck to the inspired story he constructed and his silver tongue delivered it beautifully.

“The Jotun’s have agreed to peace if your banishment is upheld.”

He let the words hang in the air and Thor stilled. It was possibly the quietest he had been in his entire life, and extremely unnerving. But Loki waxed on how their mother had forbidden his return and watched as his brother’s face crumpled. That was a wound far weighter than others. He thought that it should have been enough to crush his brother's spirit. When he stopped pacing and turned, he found proof splashed across Thor's face.

For a split second he wondered if he had gone too far, but Thor nodded morosely and thanked him.

_Job done then._

On his way out, still shrouded in invisibility amongst the human soldiers marching around, he idly tried to pull at Mjolnir. _Just out of curiosity._

The rain tumbled down heavily and he stepped out from the plastic sheeting and into the open air. The humans had surrounded the deep crater caused by Mjolnir crashing to Earth and were trying their utmost to remove it. He laughed as he saw them wandering around with their primitive scientific instruments in an attempt to find out what was keeping the hammer locked in the ground.

“Excuse me.” He muttered as he slipped past through a trio of scientists huddled under a drenched canopy.

The rain collected in puddles and turned the desert dust into thick mud. It clung to the hems of his trousers and shoes as he made his way across the squelching ground. When he stood over it with big raindrops hitting his face and sinking into his clothes, he reminded himself gently, _just curiosity._ Nothing else to it.

It didn’t budge. Not even when he threw his entire weight at it.

Just as expected really.

It was a good thing he was never called Loki the Worthy. No, he was Loki the Trickster, and he could live up to that title.

 

Part Twelve

Thor was not worthy.

He had found that out quickly and painfully when Mjolnir didn’t budge an inch. Covered in mud with warm rain soaking his clothes and skin, he howled into the night air like a wounded animal before being escorted roughly by a group of human warriors to a cell to be questioned.

Son of Coul stood before him in the cell and asked many things but the words blurred into nothing. He told him nothing. His voice was lost, having been ripped from his throat hours ago with the pain of loss again. He stared at the flapping material covering the doorway. It creaked and slapped in the wind and behind it he could see the blurred figures of the guards posted to watch over him. He had been confined before. He had evaded guards and battled through armies. Only this time round he couldn’t summon up the will to move. It had been sapped out of him while his clothes slowly dried out and the mud on his trousers cracked and flaked onto the floor.

Beyond the metal cuffs the humans have locked around his wrists, his fingers tingled with the ghost of Mjolnir under them. Or, he thought, it might be that blue icy tingle fighting to be freed. He had carried it within him into his exile and he knew he was holding a secret he was unwilling to think about. The effort of pushing it away only sent his thoughts spinning again until Loki appeared before him and told him what had happened since he left Asgard.

Thor felt as immovable as his hammer, slowly but surely petrifying in this place from the guilt of everything; his father, his mother, his brother, Asgard and the Jotuns, and now Mjolnir.

It was Erik Selvig’s grip on his arm that had him feeling aware of his own feet again. “I'm taking you home,” the scholar said with a glint of determination.

Son of Coul escorted them out of the compound with an unreadable look. “You know, if we catch you around here again, we won't be so nice.”

“You won't.” Selvig said as he squared up to the man who decided to wear a full suit into the desert. “Come on, Donald.”

Thor squinted as he stepped into the bright afternoon sun. The breeze had picked up and he could smell the dust in the air, dry and warm. Around them in crates and boxes, he saw the humans’ rudimentary technology strewn all over the place. Amongst them were Jane's machines. The ones she had talked about on the drive. The ones she had painstakingly crafted with her own two hands. He knows something about pouring yourself into an object until its more than the sum of your heart and will and while he might be walking away from Mjolnir, Thor quickly decided that he was not going back empty handed and swiped the small black book lying on an unguarded table.

Erik Selvig had said he was taking Thor home, but they end up in a bar for a drink and in between tankards of sour beer he offered up some surprisingly good advice, for a human anyway.

“There isn't a man in the world who doesn't get to where he needs to go without admitting he doesn't know what the hell he is.”

It gives Thor something to chew on as they drink and drink and drink the afternoon away. Selvig made him laugh when he tried to walk and instead staggered around, and to Thor's own surprise it was not entirely hollow. So he carried the man home, slung right across his shoulder. Selig mumbled into his ear about science, stutters over legends of the mighty Thor, and whispered that Jane has a theory of the bridges between worlds.

“I've done a lot of work on the theoretical side. Maths. Lots of maths.” Selvig hiccuped, paused and then burped loudly, “Darcy keeps Jane in check. She's got a brilliant mind, new science!”

“Or old stories,” Thor interjected, pausing at a street corner and looking left and right because there were forms of transport on Earth that moved quickly and hurt if they struck you. “Is it this way?”

“Where are we?” Selvig asked and lifted his head like a periscope to survey their new surroundings. “That way, past the pet store. And she's going to have to rebuild her scanners and sensors. All that data lost…”

Thor let the scholar ramble on and eventually they arrived at Jane's door, a small, silver caravan with a welcoming glow lighting it up from the inside. She fumbled around her quarters before taking him to the roof.

“There's more room up here, and we got the chairs cheap in a yard sale a few weeks back. Watch the table, one of the legs is loose.” She breezed past him and flopped down on a chair to stretch her legs out. Then she seems to think better of it and sat up, turning to face him. “Why did you come back…I mean why are you here now?”

The thoughts that had been swirling around his head rise up again now that the alcohol was wearing off, but he found it easier to ignore them when he hands over the notebook he swiped, “I found this.”

He dropped it into her outstretched hands and she immediately opened it up to flip over the pages, reading the jumble of sketched graphs and numbers, “That’s- thank you! This is my most recent work. They took everything, but not this.”

She waggled it in the air triumphantly and he grinned, realising he was grateful for her help, even if it didn't work out for him. He still had his side of the bargain to uphold, and so he sat down on the deckchair opposite her. It creaked under his weight when he leaned forward to speak.

“I agreed to tell you about...the storm.”

“Yes, yes you did.” Jane reached up into her hair to pull out a pencil and flipped open her notebook to a free page, “Go ahead.”

“Now there are nine realms…”

She looked up from the page at him dubiously, “Nine?”

He goes on to explain and this time she was the one listening intently. There was a hungry look on her face as she took notes on the stories he tells, looking incredulous and utterly focused as she scribbled away. It reminded him of Loki happily spending entries days studying in the library with piles of ancient, dusty books stacked around him. Thoughts of his brother slip their way closer to thoughts on Asgard and instead of indulging in the sorrow welling up in his throat, he pushes it away and recounted the tale of the war with the Jotuns his father had once told him and his brother. When she fell asleep late into the night, she has his crude drawing of Yggdrasil crumpled in her hand.

He reached forwards, taking care not to let the chair creak too loudly and tugged the paper out from her hand and placed into her notebook. He wondered how she would react if he were to show his true self again. Blue and cold. The monster he was brought up to fight. The ones his people had fought. He ran his fingers over his hands again and under the starlight he tried to discern any hint of blueness. They felt warm and remained pink but it was there underneath, he knew it. Selvig’s drunken words in the bar earlier mix into his tired thoughts and he falls asleep quicker than he realises, underneath strange but newly learnt skies.

 

Part Thirteen

Loki was alerted to Heimdall leaving his post at the gateway when he felt a flicker of magic tug at his thoughts just as the Gatekeeper crossed the threshold of the dome and stepped out onto the rainbow bridge. The flicker of magic flares up brighter and more urgent to confirm, _yes, away from his post. Abandoning it._  

Loki Odinson, King of Asgard, moved quickly to an archway overlooking the bridge. Along the long stretch of the path suspended over the rippling waters, he could see the golden dome. He could also spot the tiny figure of the Gatekeeper in his golden armour making his way down the bridge _without_ his sword. Said sword was no doubt jammed into place in the centre of the platform and also the reason as to why the golden dome was now spinning faster and faster. The gateway to the Bifrost was opening and Loki did not need magic or Heimdall’s confirmation that a path was being strung across the cosmos to Earth.

His eyes narrowed at the sight. Yes, far off in the distance his explicit orders were being followed.

Thor's friends, loyal to the core, were in the process of disobeying his own orders as their king. He had only met with them earlier that morning when they had requested an audience with their King. Loki had eventually tired of sending away servants with excuses and granted them entrance to the throne room. He conjured up newer and more impressive robes as a consolation for having to sit on the throne once more. Gold gilded in heavy leathers with his father's staff in hand, he allowed them a few short minutes to try to persuade him that Thor should be allowed to return home. It was a waste of time in his eyes, but still necessary to nod and pretend to listen to them. They were loyal without fault but largely ignorant of the wider strings encircling Asgard’s throne.

From high up at the palace window, from his lofty golden perch, Loki watched as the Bifrost opened in radiant colours and considered the next step.

 

Part Fourteen

Loki stood in front of the metallic horror and looked up. It was called the Destroyer and had been locked into the Vault by Odin several centuries ago. There were thick bands of steel that formed the barriers of its cage and Loki had to dig deep into his own magic to burn a hole right through them to release it. Another push of magic had him impressing his will onto the metal warrior; he gave a single command, because delicacy wasn’t needed in this instance.

“Destroy everything.”

He sent it to Earth with his own magic; along a sliver of a concealed path that wound down to a small desert town.

Loki took a secret path to Earth too. He had hidden from Heimdall’s eyes before so it was simple enough. He used more magic to turn himself invisible when his feet touched the ground, arriving in time to watch the Destroyer blasting at human abodes, shops, and dining establishments.

Things took a surprising turn when Thor's new human friends announced they would stay and help too. He trailed unnoticed after his brother and raises an eyebrow after Thor told Sif and the Warriors three he was unable to fight as a mortal. He left the Asgardian warriors to take on the Destroyer but the metal giant was aptly named; it knocked them down one by one. Its eyes glowed a fiery orange and it turned cars to scrap metal, wrecking havoc on the surroundings. Screams of terror and panic echoed around the street. Debris and molten slag littered the main street while humans continued to scatter and abandon their town.

Thor stood in the middle of the street while things flew through the air and directed the fragile humans to safety, helping them into their vehicles and off they went speeding away into the desert. The bruised and battered Asgardians regrouped quickly after getting to their feet again and from his viewing spot, Loki listened as Thor declared he didn't want his friends to die. When he crept a little closer he could hear him urging an ever determined Sif to leave, to live. As more buildings burned and the smoke thickened, Loki returned to the side of the street to watch with a flip flopping stomach as his brother convinced his old friends to follow the humans and protect them.

They unwillingly fell back on his order just as he backed away with a wide grin that was meant to be reassuring. “Don't worry my friends, I have a plan.”

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes and failed, _how predictable._

His brother was like an open book, and his plan was a straightforward one, in Loki’s eyes. He meant to face the Destroyer alone. Once everyone was clear from harm’s way, he dropped Sif’s shield and stepped away from it, knowing there was no need for it. He seemed to think that this small town, Jane's town, was suffering for his own quarrels with his brother. Loki listened intently as Thor spoke up for the humans because this was all he had left, and believing to have no home, offered himself up instead. A willing sacrifice for the safety of strangers.

Loki was more than willing to take the blame for this magical misadventure because in this instance, intent is everything.

The Destroyer was deaf to Thor’s entreaties. All it knows is pain and fire. When it struck Thor, the blow knocks him back and he rolls across the dirt, broken and bleeding. Loki winced from his viewing spot and turned to see the metal monster charging itself up for the next, devastating blow.

Loki held his breath while his brother lay on the ground. Dying for others. A sacrifice for peace.

A hammer forged from the heart of a dying star broke away from compressed rock in the ground miles away and began its flight to the hand of the one who was worthy to wield it.

When he rose to his feet, Thor was fully armoured with his powers restored. Loki could feel the air crackle as the storm Thor calls up builds and builds. His brother stood tall in the middle of the street with Mjolnir raised up, and from his hiding spot Loki felt an itch of magic across his skin; just as he did when he was younger and scrapping with Thor over childish quibbles, just as he did when he stood on Jotunheim. When the first spark of lightning hit Thor’s skin, it spread from tip to toe across his amour and branched out over his body. His skin revealed the truth, but this time around there was an acceptance when it wiped away pink skin. When the thunder boomed again and the storm whipped up fiercer, Thor stepped out of the dust thrown up into the air and faced the Destroyer as himself, a Jotun and Asgardian.

As Thor Odinson.

There was a shout from the side as one of the humans with a mass of curly dark hair poked her head up from behind a car and shouted, “I _told_ you he was _blue_!”

Loki ignored her triumphant cheer, as well as the look of surprise and shock on the other two humans who had been hosting his brother. Instead he remained invisible and stepped out into the middle of the street to see the Destroyer rise up into the middle of the storm after Thor. He watched intently as Thor flew around inside the eye of the storm he had created and knocked the giant metal warrior’s blasts back and the air trembled as each blow fell. The following battle between them was a spectacle; fire against lightning in a little desert town. Thunder made the ground shake with every strike against the Destroyer’s metal armour. Lightning crackled and escaped the churning funnel, shooting back into the clouds and forking to the ground in heavy bolts.

It ended with a final blast of lightning that cleaved the Destroyer into two pieces and a shockwave rolled out through the air in blue, frosty tendrils. It passed over all of them and left them with goosebumps. The tornado dissipated as quickly as it formed, and left the Destroyer lying in a crater of its own making with its torso melting and caving in. The fires it had started with its blasts were smothered by the thunderstorm that soaked everything in warm raindrops and left behind nothing but clear air and bright blue skies.

 

Part Fifteen

When Thor next saw his brother, leaning against the side of an abandoned car at the crater site, he rushed towards him and threw a bone-crunching punch. There was a yell of rage as well, but Loki didn't remember that much later on.

What he would remember was landing in the dust a good ten feet away, and how it had hurt.

Loki told Thor as much, shouting at him from across the distance between them as he dusted himself off.

From far off, he saw the scientist woman with her hands over her mouth in shock. Much more shock than when his brother turned blue and lashed the Destroyer with reams of lightning from his newly returned hammer.

“You lied to me! Father is in the Odinsleep.” Thor marched across the dusty land and a blue hand reached out to drag Loki to his feet ungracefully. “He is not dead.”

“You needed a push.” Loki squirmed under Thor's tight grip, ignoring the chill that was seeping through his armour and gave a light little chuckle, “It worked, I see Mjolnir has returned to your hand, Thor Odinson.”

Thor dropped him and scowled, shaking his head in anger. His fingers clenched and released, but they didn't return to Loki's throat immediately. “Do not anger me. You have done enough! This is beyond your usual mischief, you lied to me.”

Brushing himself off, Loki got to his feet again with only a little grunt of pain and reached over to clap his brother on the shoulder. “I lied to help you. Come brother, we must return to Asgard. Father may awaken quicker now that both his sons are by his side, awaiting his restoration.”

“Loki...” Thor growled under his breath, an echo of the thunder from the storm he had called up.

His anger was plain and bubbling over, though his amber eyes did not flame like the Destroyer. His blue skin thrummed with magic, and the runes carved in deep that denoted his regal lineage crackled with leftover static from the fight.

“I did it for you.”

Loki was quick to snap back, unwilling to be thrown to the ground again. This reunion wasn’t going as well as he had imagined. He expected more thanks and less of his face in the dirt or the threat of being punched in the face. He felt the need to gesture at Thor’s equally newly returned armour and tacked on, to bring his brother's attention to the thing that mattered. The culmination of his efforts and hard work.

“And it worked.”

Volstagg had managed to catch up with them and puffed out, “He was quick to sit on the throne, to maintain your banishment.” Behind him, the others jogged closer. Each of them viewed him with various looks of suspicion, eager to share their side of the story.

“You think I didn't know Heimdall would let you pass, send you across the Bifrost to Midgard. I anticipated it.” Loki rolled his eyes and lifted his hands up in a surrender to explain, turning to his brother as Volstagg spluttered indelicately.

“You convinced Heimdall to defy orders.” Thor looked back at the Warriors Three who nodded, still looking on with wariness. His eyes were still flinty but Loki didn’t think he would throw him through the air again.

“You needed a challenge to overcome. You needed an opportunity to prove your worthiness, to rise to the heights that are expected. You couldn't stay in exile on Earth, with these, these _humans._ Yes, I lied about the Odinsleep. Yes, I sent the Destroyer.” Loki stepped closer and poked his brother in the chest, watching Thor hold tight onto the reins of his anger as he realised the extent to Loki's cunning. “Why? Because Asgard needs you, Laufeyson or not, it is you who was meant to rule.”

“Loki, you knew?” Sif’s dark eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms.

“About our Jotun Thor?” He flung her question back, watching as their wary glances shifted from brother to brother, and he inexplicably found himself stepping around Thor to put himself between them. “Yes, I’ve known since our trip to Jotunheim.”

“You saw?” Thor asked quietly over his shoulder, only loud enough for him to hear.

Loki turned his head around, “The Jotun touched you, and I thought I was too slow to stop him... but you survived it. You turned blue. Like now.”

He shook his head because up close Thor looked completely different but still the same. He looked exactly like what he feared and there was a chill in the air from just standing beside him. And yet underneath it all he was still Thor, his brother.

Loki pulled a face halfway between a grin and a grimace, “Thunder not enough for you?”

Finally the lightning hit the ground and Thor realised what his brother had done. Thor remained silent for a long moment and studied him, “You did all this despite knowing that I'm not…”

Loki sighed out a long and dramatic sigh. One he hoped conveyed just how long suffering the entire ordeal had been for him. “Brother, Asgard needs you. You have Mjolnir now, you can return home.”

Suddenly, Loki found his knees buckling under the weight of Thor's hand gripping his shoulder, but this time, his brother wasn't trying to slam him into the ground. His grin had become blinding. Loki wanted to roll his eyes again but only lightly shook Thor’s hand off his shoulder instead.

“And you?” Thor turned his eyes to his lifelong friends. They had fought together countless time, protected each others backs in the midst of battles, and then joked while being bandaged by the healers afterwards. He asked tentatively, eyes shifting between them and the fixed themselves to the ground. “You know the truth now. What do you say?”

Sif stepped up first, confident and loyal to the core. “You'll make a far better king than your brother.” She elbowed Loki out of the way a little too sharply and clapped Thor on the shoulder with a fierce look of pride.

“I look forward to fighting many, many more battles at your side.” Hogan stepped forward next and raised his arms as though the next battle was imminent.

Thor’s smile reappeared and only grew wider as Volstagg and Fandral went on to proclaim their unshakable bond of friendship, blue face or not. “I am honoured, old friends.” Thor reached out and they clasped hands with some hesitation, then enthusiastically, when his icy touch didn’t injure them.

Loki watched impatiently, crossing his arms and then recrossing them as they chattered between themselves, but he froze on the spot when Asgards’ wards were crossed. As king he could feel everything and what he felt now had the pit of his stomach dropping like a stone. He sucked in a breath and fell into step to grab onto Thor's arm.

“There are Jotuns in the palace. We have to leave now!”

A sober expression darkened Thor's face, and he turned his face skywards and bellowed for Heimdall. The call was answered instantaneously with a bright cylinder of light falling from the sky.

Hogan and Sif exchanged a look, before Fandral spoke as diplomatically as he could “Can we trust him?”

“Yes.” Thor announced definitively, and began to pull his brother towards the Bifrost. “Where are they?”

Loki breathed shallowly and tried to calm his panic filled mind. He closed his eyes and reached for his magic before replying, “Heading towards the palace, a small contingent. Mother will be there, but the palace guards do not patrol close to father's chambers on their rounds, she prefer it to be quiet. They may not be able to reach them quickly, not until the alarm is raised.”

The humans edged closer as the Bifrost began to descend, throwing up a dust cloud which then churned up sand. Jane sprinted as fast as she could across the remaining distance and Loki watched with some confusion as she latched onto Thor.

Thor wrapped his blue arms around her and lifted her with an easy smile, “I'm glad you’re safe.”

“You're leaving?”

Over his shoulder, she watched the Bifrost touch the ground and mark it with old runes as she asked her question. There was unbridled curiosity in her eyes and they flickered back and forth between Thor and the path across the stars.

Thor’s smile wavered a little. “The Jotuns have invaded Asgard. They are in the palace. I have to go, to protect Asgard.”

He slowly let her down, and her feet touched the floor but her hands were still clinging to him, “Yeah, I mean I get it, totally understand.” Jane nodded, mustering up a grin. “You didn't mention anything about being blue before, but it suits you.”

“I'm beginning to think so too.”

Loki grimaced at the sickly sweet farewell that was coming and turned his back, making his way towards the aurora. He stepped into the Bifrost and thought of home, hoping they would not be too late.

 

Part Sixteen

Heimdall heard the call despite being encased in ice by the Jotun king and with great effort found the strength to break through. It first splintered, then cracked and shed glittering fragments onto the rainbow bridge. He wasted little time in completing his duty to open the Bifrost.  

The Asgardians returned from Earth in a blaze of coloured light, and Heimdall slumped over his sword and gathered up his remaining strength to warn them, “The palace... the King’s quarters.”

“Raise the alarm.” Loki told Fandral.

The head of palace security spared a second to nod gravely and then sprinted out of the golden done towards the line horses tied up outside. The rest of them caught their breath back and drew their weapons, readying themselves for the upcoming battle.

Without hesitation, Thor swung his hammer around and around and took to the air with thunder rolling loud enough to make the rainbow bridge shudder. Loki watched the streak of silver lightning cross the sky and snapped to work, using his magic to materialise outside the throne room directly. His feet clapped on the white marble floors as he ran down the corridor with a golden sheen unfurling over him so that by the time he reached the door to Odin’s chamber he was fully armoured with his father's staff in hand.

He charged in through wide doorway to see Laufey leaning over his father with an icy dagger piercing the golden magic shell encasing him. The force of it sent jagged metallic ripples over the shell, but the magic protecting him held up against the weight of the Frost Giant. His mother lay stunned on the floor, and there were two fallen Jotuns beside her spilling their blue blood onto the pale sheepskin rugs.

“You!” Loki blasted the Jotun King with the staff with a shot of bright green fire.

Laufey hit the wall first with a deafening thud and then the floor. He crumpled into himself from the force of the blast and groaned but Loki had already turned away to check on his mother. She recovered quickly and slowly rose to her feet, holding onto her son’s arm to steady herself. Without a moment’s pause, they rushed over to check on the magic encasing the Allfather. Under the glimmering cover, Odin still breathed softly, undisturbed and unaware of the invasion.

Loki plucked the ice dagger out of the magical shield with relief thudding in his veins and swept a hand over the wards protecting his father. “He's unharmed.”

“Good.” Frigga reached for her sword that had been knocked out of her hand as they heard new footsteps down the corridor. She had dropped it when one of the Jotun warriors had struck her. Now that she had regained her composure, her eyes flicked to the doorway and narrowed, “There are more on their way.”

Loki reluctantly stepped away from his father's bedside and gripped the staff again. He tried to centre himself, shifting his boots against the floor. He hadn’t expected an invasion, not that it wasn’t something he had anticipated. Only these Jotuns had been successful enough to breach the palace. They had iced Heimdall and passed through Odin’s wards easily enough. It chilled him to think that they had made it to Odin’s chambers, leaving only their mother to defend the Allfather.

He turned and sneered at Laufey who had taken the distraction to get to his feet and moved closer to the doorway, watching as his Jotuns filed into the room. They filled the air with their growls and left icy trails on the golden floor. Now when Loki and Frigga breathed, their could see their breath in the air as faint puffs of steam. The Jotuns’ eyes were a hard amber and locked onto their target behind him.

Frigga wasted no time and brandished her sword while Loki blasted bursts of hot green magic at the attackers intended to scorch flesh. They worked hard and the Jotuns fell; it wasn't enough, there was always another to step through the doorway.

The curtains billowed out behind Loki, and brought a gust of warmer air into the room from beyond the sheer material, but his attention was fixed on Laufey’s hungry look. His mother worked quickly, slicing her daggers back and forth until the Jotuns retreated with hisses of pain, but despite their efforts they were both backed up towards the bed. They stood as the only barrier from the encroaching Jotun’s ice swords and maces with grim determination in every line of their body, working gracefully and defending the Allfather behind them.

When Thor arrives, he does so by crashing through the wall as a streak of blue and bright light. Rubble flies across the room. One particularly large chunk hits a Jotun on the side and is followed up by the swing of his hammer that has his bones crunching into powder. The Jotun warrior fell heavily onto two of his compatriots and all three didn't rise again.

“Thor!” Frigga called out to her second son in disbelief.

When Thor turned and saw the relief and happiness on her face, a look of relief was plastered across his face. Even in his Jotun form he was unmistakably himself with lightning crackling off Mjolnir and skittering onto the floor around his feet.  

“Mother,” Thor replied, and allowed himself a smile in return.

He quickly turned to face Laufey and this time it is a true first meeting of father and son. “Leave now, and do not return.”

Thor's order echoed with the sound of thunder leaking into his voice. It rumbling off the walls and Loki could feel his insides judder. His mother shifted her weight until she was leaning closer to him, and her lips were pressed together tightly in worry they watched.  

Laufey’s face twisted sharply in disgust and defiance. “You were left to die,” he hissed viciously.

“Leave.” Thor repeated doggedly with his grip on Mjolnir tightening, but to his credit he didn't raise it again. “Asgard does not want war.”

Laufey growled and launched himself across the room. His hand was immediately encased in a thick shard of ice and it swung against Mjolnir. Loki backed off as Thor smashed his hammer ruthlessly against Laufey’s shoulder and then face. He saw it differently this time; there was restraint, but he didn’t have long to ponder Earth’s effects on his brother as more Jotun warriors followed their king’s lead and both he and Frigga had their hands full battling their enemies pouring in through the open doorway.

They all froze when light flooded the room. It was unbearably bright and Loki shielded his eyes with one hand, the other still holding father's staff against the closest Jotun’s neck. He squinted at the bright light and his heart stuttered when the staff melted away in his hand and left his fingers outstretched. When the light dimmed, Loki saw that Odin was stood on the bed, looming over Laufey with his staff pointed at the king’s chest.

His voice rang out with strength, showing the very strength he possessed as the Allfather. “Asgard does not want a war, Laufey. But if a war is required, you can see that it is ready.”

The Frost Giant growled under his breath, counting his warriors around him and found that more were sprawled over the floor than those who were still standing. When he looked back at the Allfather, he bristled with frozen fury. There was no wavering in Odin's voice or his stance. Around him stood both his sons and his wife, armed and ready to finish the battle. Laufey had taken a sliver of an opportunity that had now disappeared into the ether. Realising that the turn of events that did not favour him anymore, Laufey scrambled backwards and turned, only to see that the Warriors Three had entered the room along with a contingent of palace guards.

It all became mundane from then as Loki watched Laufey’s surrender. The Jotun shedded the ice coating his arm and backed away from Odin. He didn't look at Thor as he and the remaining Jotuns were escorted back to the Gate where Heimdall would swiftly return them to Jotunheim. He didn’t deign to remark on the Frost Giant decked out in Asgardian armour, trussed in Aesir heirlooms who was undeniably his own child because they had mirroring rune marks running down their arms. The chill in the air had lessened now that the fight was over, but the long green rug under Thor’s boots had iced over and cracked when he shifted his weight.

Thor stood from the other side of the room with an unnerving quietness and his amber eyes hard and glaring, but he allowed the King of the Jotuns to walk away with a barrage of staffs and swords pointed at his throat and chest. He busied himself looking solemnly at the floor, and Loki caught his eye and tipped his chin in a mockingly encouraging manner towards their parents, because despite facing down an invasion Thor was still nervous.

“Father, are you well?” Thor asked, still rooted to the spot as Loki peered around the doorway to watch the Jotuns’ disappear down the hallway.  

Odin had vanished away his armour, but used the staff to support his weight as he walked stiffly over to where Thor stood, not quite in the doorway or in the room. Funny how he could be restored to his former princeling status and still act like a child in front of the Allfather, eyes fixed on his shoes as if he had done something wrong.

The Allfather reached out a hand that wasn't entirely steady and he swayed forward to clasp Thor's blue shoulder with a generous smile, “My son, you have returned. With your powers.”

He stepped a little closer and Thor’s shoulders sunk down as he reached out his free hand to touch his father's arm. There was no flesh burning or smoothing of blue skin away and relief burned brightly in his chest. Thor slumped forwards when Frigga reached around to kiss him on the forehead and he smiled wide, feeling a lightness in his chest he didn’t know was possible.

“All of them,” Thor nodded, raising his blue hand with Mjolnir wrapped around his wrist for Odin to see.

“Yes, congratulations.” His father beamed again. “It appears you are now worthy to wield Mjolnir, and with it, the duties as Asgard's crown prince.”

Leaning against the wall, Loki kicked a lump of wall to the side half-heartedly. The little grain of triumph he had felt earlier had dissolved quickly. In the end, Thor hadn’t needed to do much at all. True, he had faced off against the Destroyer, but it was only a turn of fate that the Jotuns had decided to attack when Loki had left Asgard. If Thor hadn’t regained his power and Mjolnir, he wouldn’t have been able to return to stop Laufey. Loki brushed his boot against the melting ice shards left behind by the Jotun warriors that were disintegrating into puddles and considered the fragments of their choices. It had worked out for Thor, but he hadn’t gained anything for all his efforts. Thor would be named as Crown Prince, and he would return to what...his library and his magic. Odin would not reward him for enabling Thor’s return. No, Loki knew he would have to claim his reward himself.

He was distracted when Frigga swiped her cheeks with a finger, brushing away the tears that had begun to roll down as she took in Thor, restored to his full power. “My son, back home.”

It was settled as quickly as that, and Loki hung back as Odin and Frigga finished congratulating Thor and welcoming him back home. They stood in a tight circle, arms interlocked and looped over each other. His mother rested her chin on Thor’s head with her eyes closed and when she opened them, she motioned for Loki to take her hand and he did, dropping his knives on the bed. His neatly picked his way over the bits of rubble strewn across the floor, and accepted her arms around him.

“You did magnificently.” She beamed with pride at both of them in turn as Odin walked towards the door, shimmering in light as he materialised his full regalia.  

Then Asgard’s King and Queen left for the throne room to address their people and Thor shifted close enough to nudge Loki, unable to temper down the look of joy splashed across his face. There was a lightness between them too, one brother glad to be home and the other glad that his cunning hadn’t failed him. The guilt that had clung to him ever since their visit to Jotunheim had been transformed into something more bearable and devoid of shame, and for that Loki felt a smidge of satisfaction he would never, ever voice.

The two of them leaned against the far wall, facing the newly created window that Thor had smashed into creation. Outside, night had begun to fall on Asgard and the familiar blanket of stars was slowly appearing in the twilight. From the height, they could look down on a vast part of the city’s centre, and then onwards down the Bifrost and the waterfall at the very edge of the realm. One that they would both have a hand in ruling.

The satisfaction rose up a little higher, but Loki pushed it down and instead, he nudged his brother back and said, “You’ve been welcomed back into the bosom of the royal family, almost like you’ve never left.”

“It is good to be back, brother.”

Loki took the opportunity to needle Thor further, rolling his hand carelessly in the dust filled air. “Who knows, after all of this your little pet humans may even build a statue in your honor. Of course it may not be out of Asgardian gold like I would have mine… and they'd have to find something blue. A shiny, tacky material to match your roaring Jotun self.”

He leaned sideways to prod Thor’s arm. The bulk of muscle under his forearm was still sinewy with muscle, but sunk in deep was a frost giant's power. It pushed back against Loki’s magic like a solid wall, innate and without malice, against the presence of this foreign force. It stunned him to think he had never realised that the thrum of magic that had forever been in his brother’s presence was because of his Frost Giant nature.

It had been an oversight of sorts, one he would learn from.

Thor pulled him out of his thoughts with a half-hearted shove that had him struggling to keep upright. “Loki, not everything is about statues.”

“I beg to differ.”

Loki shot back a wry grin, hearing a roll of cheers and applause from the throne room deeper within the palace, his attention had returned to that golden throne that would be prepared for his brother once more. He wasn't in a rush to sit in it again, despite how easy it had been to take.

“Then again, humans are such fickle creatures, they may not bother at all. How pointless for all the effort you went to in saving them.”

Thor jabbed him back, “You were the one who sent the Destroyer to Midgard. See, this is why I am Crown Prince and you... are Loki the Liar.”

Loki shook him off and feigned deafness at that. Instead, he absently rubbed a finger over a slowly healing bruise on his forearm. “I was starting to think your time on Earth had slowed you down. Or did you circle Asgard before coming here?”

Thor regained his usual level of bluster in a matter of seconds. His shoulders straightened automatically and his chest puffed up once he eagerly begun to make plans. “Slowed down? Once we have secured Asgard, I'm sure Hogan will be keen to organise a small sparring match. It's not right that you cannot hold off an entire Jotun invasion party by yourself. You must be able to do better, brother. Lady Sif may even give you private coaching, if you would like me to request it.”

Loki’s eyes bugged out wide at the idea of more field practise and he thumped Thor's shoulder on the way out of the room a little too hard for it to be entirely brotherly. It was more of a distant reminder that he had once bested his brother on the training fields, and he could do so again if needed. Not that Thor would take the warning. No, they would fall back into their old patterns as usual, although the idea of that had a bitter tang to it.

Instead of grimacing or rising to Thor’s taunt, he threw a look of restrained civility and said, “No, I'm far better suited to further study. There's several new artifacts I have my eye on, now that we’re more aware of what lies in Asgard’s vaults, and besides I'm sure you'll be far too preoccupied with your duties, brother.”

 

Part Seventeen

A new kind of normality had arrived in Asgard, and his brother returned redeemed and a hero. When Thor walked up the steps the second time surrounded by crowds of Asgardians to pledge himself to the duties of Crown Prince, the future King of Asgard, he did so with his true skin. The crowds were hesitant at first but cheered jubilantly as they recognised that intrinsic manner they knew and loved underneath the blue skin as he made his way through them, watching as Odin stood proudly at the foot of the throne. It was true, Thor was Thor, and one day Odin’s once foolish dream of peace between Jotunheim and Asgard may well become a reality.

Loki hung back in the throne room once the ceremony was over and Odin had returned to his chambers to rest with Frigga. The crowds too, quickly emptied out to the feasting halls where the mead would flow into horns and tankards all through the night, and quite possibly until the end of the week. From behind the vast columns holding up that infamous, mosaic ceiling of Asgard’s triumphs, he could feel a mighty crackle of jubilation in the air that even he couldn't push away. So he let it be, greeting those that passed him on their way out and accepted their hearty congratulations.  

“Well that went well,” Loki called out to the almost empty room.   

He walked over to the small flight of steps to the throne and gracefully sat down on one of the steps beside his brother who was loitering with his hand on one of the curled, golden arms of the throne, looking down with an unreadable look at the vast empty hall.

Then Thor looked down at him, blinked twice, and cracked a smile as he reflected on the afternoon. “I think so too.”

“What, no clever comment?” Loki waited for a reply, and didn’t get one. “What is it? Today was your big day, you should be glad!”

“I am.” Thor looked wistful. When he frowned, the runes around his forehead creased up together in dark, messy lines. “I only hoped that...all who had helped me become who I am today were here to witness this.”

“You miss the humans?”

Loki nearly slid off the step in disbelief, curious about how the short time on Earth had affected Thor so much. He was no less brash and his ever abundant optimism hadn't lessened. He stood and stepped up closer to the throne, leaning his forearms on the empty arm opposite his brother.

“Oh. You miss _her_?”

It must have been something in the moment. A strange sort of consequence that could only come from standing in front of the Destroyer as a mortal and knowing that your life was the price to end a battle. Loki wasn't sure he would ever be able to die for humans, not like Thor had decided to.

A contemplative look crossed Thor’s face as he stepped away from the throne and past Loki, towards the open archways at the edge of the hall. He looked out at Asgard, gilded in gold. Stretched out beyond their realm was the twilight sky, a vast, uncrossable expanse. There were dozens upon dozens of twinkling stars, all he was familiar with. There were also others he could not see, but knew the names of, named by humans and mapped out on paper only a mere handful of hundreds of years ago. They still dreamed of stepping out into the stars that he had crossed countless times. It made him wonder what would happen when they possessed the means to accomplish that noble desire.

When he did speak, he sounded wistful, something Loki wasn't sure his brother could be.

“Yes, I do.”

His words were so plain that Loki barked out a laugh he couldn’t contain. Thor silenced it with a single look and Loki had to press his lips together tightly, stunned over the idea that the humans had left such an impression so quickly on his brother. He also felt a slightly twist of jealousy, a twinge in the pit of his stomach, because Thor had made friends so quickly and had equally been quick to die for their short, uninspiring lives. It was truly unthinkable to him, beyond madness.

“Well, it'll pass soon enough, and your new duties will keep you busy.” Loki threw the words out flippantly, “But if it doesn't, you could always abscond and leave it all to me. I promise to be a benevolent ruler! All of Asgard shall sing my praises.”

He waved his hands to the non-existent sounds of cheers and music and saw that Thor's eyes shift away from the stars. So he carried on, “Yes, I would create great monuments. I would hold feasting days! You know, there are many improvements to be made. I believe Asgard is lacking in its commitment to the finer arts. We are far too focused on the feats of our warriors. There are other, more valuable talents roaming our halls who should be championed…”

Thor only snorted back at him, then ignored the rest of Loki’s airy prattling as together they headed off to the feasting halls to join their friends to celebrate Thor's new era as Crown Prince of Asgard.

 

Part Eighteen

Loki returned to the Vault, escaping the feasting and drinking and drunken sparring for the quiet and cooler air underneath the palace.

He turned himself invisible so that he didn't have to explain his presence to the guards stationed outside the door. Another burst of magic had him slipping past the doors and he reappeared on the other side in a subtle flash of light. Then it was a short walk down the stairs and deeper into the Vault to where he needed to go.

He passed the other treasures that lined the central walkway. These were called tokens and gifts and relics, but almost all were stolen from conquered places scattered across the other eight realms. At the end, on a plinth of its own, sat the Casket of Winter and as he approached it Loki could feel its pull tugging at the magic within him. There was something truly simple and ethereal about the way in which it called to him. He felt his own fear but with every step he took, it seemed to drift further away until every fibre in his body craved the box under his own hands.

He had felt its power before, the last time he had stood here. It had called to him then, but his mind had been clouded by other thoughts, Thor and the Destroyer, Odin and his lies. And now his own curiosity had led him back to it again. He could feel a deeper magic inside the blue box, boundless and beyond primal. When he laid his hands on it and dived deep, he was rewarded - his thirst for knowledge had only grown since he was a child, there was always more to learn. He had pieced together fascinating things from master tutors, ancient scholars, and had hoarded impressive secrets from long forgotten books on dusty shelves in the libraries.

But even his rarest book or treasured artifact was nothing compared to this.

Past the searing cold and icy blue, there it was. More painful than breathing in the frozen air on Jotunheim. More painful than anything he had ever felt. It would quench every feeling he ever had, every thought, every question, nothing would compare.

Everything was all meaningless and unimportant compared to this. He had known nothing before. It was pure Truth that spoke to him in burning waves.

Vast. Unconquerable. And his to possess.

Loki dug deep within the Casket and felt its power, while the Casket dug deep and found flesh and soul, and a way across the hidden paths in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'Call them brothers' - Regina Specktor


End file.
